


Witches

by KillerQueen20



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anathema Device Ships Aziraphale/Crowley, Crowley Loves Kids (Good Omens), Crowley and Anathema Device are Friends (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Family Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Multi, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21526843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillerQueen20/pseuds/KillerQueen20
Summary: Who says Crowley has never meet a real witch before Anathema? Oh, maybe they're right.
Relationships: Anathema Device & Warlock Dowling, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Anathema Device, Crowley & Warlock Dowling, Nanny Ashtoreth & Warlock Dowling
Comments: 2
Kudos: 96





	Witches

The young Anathema Device carefully traced the sigil on the ground, with the expertise that only the practice gave her.

More than fearful, she was nervous, she had already been warned that it could be dangerous to try to invoke demons, but who could stop a 14-year-old teenager, in full stage of rebellion?

She added one more scribble, after closing the sigil she stood up and concentrated, sticking his fingers in the chalk a little more than was absolutely necessary.

"I hope this works," he muttered under his breath, releasing the chalk in his hand.

A few moments later, there was a flash of blue light and a strange force pushed her so hard that she ended up on the ground, and a tall figure appeared in the sigil.

Although Anathema had decided to not be frightened, she can't help feeling a chill when she sees the figure in front of her.

It was tall, but blurred, since when she fell her glasses had been twisted, preventing her from seeing clearly.

Until she adjusted his glasses, she could clearly see the figure in front of her. It was a tall man, dressed entirely in black, even wearing dark glasses, with long shoulder-length hair, wavy and red-haired, and an expression that seemed to say: "I'd rather be anywhere else than here."

"Oh, I'm Crowley ... demon ... and you've invoked me ... and, blah, blah, blah ... Ugh! I'm so rusty in the invocations." He said in annoyance. Anathema screamed and Crowley fell to see that in front of him was only a girl who did not appear to be over 14 years old.

"You are a kid! How did you get my sigil anyway?" The demon was looking at the chalk marks on the floor now, trying not to seem impressed by the work of a 14-year-old girl.

"I'm a witch," she said as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Anathema Device, nice to meet you."

The demon couldn't believe that a girl of 14 years had been able to invoke a demon, no matter how witch it was, it took years of experience, and she...

"So what did you summon me for, girl?" He said trying to break the silence that had been created.

"My name is Anathema," she corrected, and the redhead resisted the desire to roll his eyes. "And I just wanted to see if it worked," she added timidly, implying the message: "Please don't hurt me."

"I'll call you girl," he said before she could protest. "And if you don't need me, I will retire, good night," he said, heading for the bedroom door.

"God ..." Anathema murmured, being heard by Crowley

"Don't mention God!" He scolded

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I just can't believe I summoned a demon," she said incredulously, sitting on her knees on the floor trying to realize what she had done.

Crowley couldn't help feeling tenderness, yes, she was weak with children, and that girl, no matter how witch she said she was, was still a girl, smart enough to invoke a demon by herself.

The redhead approached the girl and sat cross-legged in the sigil, watching as the girl kept muttering things under her breath.

"I- I- I, Summon a demon!" All by myself! she snorted, Crowley chuckled nothing typical of him, ready to do what he did best, observe and analyze as the girl sank into a state of disbelief.

 _"She ... she is as cool as me"_ he thought, after all, instead of escaping, he tried to be brave despite having a demon in front of her, something that many wouldn't dare to do. _"But, she is as clever as Aziraphale!"_ He said to himself, after all, the girl, despite her age, had summoned a demon totally alone, with no help other than an ancient book.

"Sir, are you all right?"

 _"Sir?"_ He thought, _"Yes, it looks more like Aziraphale"_

"I'm perfectly fine, girl." He stretched his arm and fondly ruffled the girl's already messy brown hair. "It's just that you remind me of someone."

"Oh yeah? To who?" she asked curiously.

“I like this girl more and more,” he thought. “To a… friend,” he said, although deep down, he wanted to add: “He's my husband, only he doesn't know yet.”

"I like you, girl," he added, striking friendly to Anathema's shoulder, who now didn't think a demon was being friendly with her.

"Tha... thank you, sir," she said shyly.

"Nothing from sir, call me Crowley," he said, building trust among them.

"Ok, Crowley," Anathema said, much more confident than she had been at the beginning.

"And do you have parents?"

"Yes."

"Well, now you have another one."

"What?!"

It was very difficult to make her understand that the girl, who had become fond of her, was about to call the police until she realized that no one would believe that she had summoned a demon.

The demon left, but days later, after being summoned by the girl with a guilty face, he realized that the girl wanted to be with him, so he became his mentor, teaching him everything he knew about the invocations and other demonic things (although the girl preferred to call it magic)

They even started talking about other things, with Anathema complaining about school and other things and Crowley throwing small details about a blond who drive him crazy, becoming almost a conversation between schoolgirls instead of a demon-witch advice.

He named her his honorary daughter, and although at first the girl had been reluctant before that title, he eventually accepted it, thus becoming the first daughter of the red-haired demon.

Crowley loved Anathema, and Anathema admired him. Better relationship between mentor and pupil could not have.

Just that one day, a few years later, Anathema Device stopped invoking it.

But who would say that would meet his honorary daughter after running her over on a dark night? No one, it was one of those crazy things of destiny.

[…]

Anathema Device was a witch. What other women would call an insult, Anathema bore the title with pride.

But now, after Armageddon, she was now a witch without purpose, and surprisingly that didn't bother her. Now she was free to do what she wanted without the need to follow a book of five hundred years.

She leaned against a wall looking around, the world that, although indirectly, helped save.

"And now what?" Was the first thing she asked herself. What comes now would be simple improvisation. She closed his eyes, trying to process everything that had happened since that morning.

"Witch," a low voice startled her. "Or should I say, girl ..."

She opened his eyes and slowly looked back at the owner of that voice, a cluster of memories appeared in his mind, memories of the unusual relationship between a girl and a demon.

"Crowley," he said softly, trying to erase the faults for abandonment years ago.

"Don't say anything, "he mocked her tone." You're in a lot of trouble, young lady. "That scolding sounded so paternal to him that Anathema could only let out a small laugh.

"It's not time for you to laugh," his gesture was severe, though his tone was gentle but firm.

"I'm sorry," the witch apologized laughingly, recalling the times when she was a child and the demon rebuked her for being "too good."

"Why did you stop invoking me?" The nostalgic tone of the demon made his face completely change to one full of seriousness.

Anathema looked away from him. "I thought it would bother you that a simple teenage girl was invoking you every two by three."

"You were not “ _a simple teenager”_ you were a witch, the best with that great mentor you had," he said with some presumption, trying to lighten the melancholy environment that had formed. "Besides, you are my adopted daughter, you never you would bother.

That comment softened Anathema's heart, "You **_are_** my adopted daughter" Not a " _You were"_ but a _"You are"_ in spite of everything, he never stopped considering a daughter.

"Things change," Anathema added. _"And sometimes you have to do what a five-hundred-years old book tells you,"_ she wanted to add.

"And you ..." Crowley fiddled with one of the witch's brown locks with an almost paternal affection. "You're not the same girl I met years ago."

Anathema snorted "I have grown, I have matured."

Crowley looked down at the floor. "That's true, that's true," he conceded to the witch.

They remained silent for a few minutes. Anathema, like Crowley, lowered her gaze to the ground, seeming to her that at that moment her shoes were more interesting than anything else.

"You know ..." Anathema spoke after a moment, determined to break silently between her and her former mentor. "The first time I saw you ...

"When you invoke me?"

"When you ran me over," Anathema commented humorously. "I thought you and Aziraphale were..." she shut up not knowing if what he was going to say would be right.

Crowley raised his eyebrow and looked at her expectantly because he will continue.

"...were a couple," she said quickly, fearful that the statement would make the redhead angry.

Crowley remained silent, looking at her strangely, but surprisingly, moments later, he let out a laugh that would have caught everyone's attention if it wasn't because they were alone at the time.

Anathema kept quiet while watching her ex-mentor disengage in laughter.

"Don't laugh," he grimaced. "I thought they were, besides ..."

"Anathema," the redhead interrupted. "You remember when I talked to you about that blond who, in mundane words," drove me crazy. "

Anathema nodded and Crowley remained silent, looking at her with a smile and waiting for his brain to carbure and understand what he meant.

"Aziraphale is blond!" Said the witch a moment later.

"You're so smart," he said sarcastically. "There's no doubt that my advice paid off."

Anathema frowned after hearing the sharp sarcasm that came from the mouth of his "adoptive father", but she knew he could not do anything, after all, it was a habit already so ingrained in the way of being of the demon that there was no probability of stop being like that.

"But seriously," the witch replied. "You have all the energy of an old gay couple married with affectionate nicknames and a questionable taste in everything."

Crowley raised an eyebrow again at the immense imagination coming from the mind of his former advisor.

"I never remember teaching you that," the demon muttered softly.

"What thing?" Asked Anathema, surprised.

"Having a devastating imagination"

Anathema laughed, but she keeps talking "Besides, his auras said otherwise..."

Crowley opened his eyes, sincerely surprised. "You mastered the art of seeing the auras!"

Anathema nodded smiling as he watched the proud gesture his mentor took.

"I'm ... honestly ... I ..." The demon said nothing more, but Anathema understood what he meant.

"Your auras said everything you dared not say," she said solemnly as she adjusted her glasses. "Her auras were united in one," she added extremely fascinated.

The demon thanked that his dark glasses covered his eyes since he didn't want the witch to observe his bewildered gesture, but at the same time amazed.

"Oh yeah? "Anathema nodded in response." See, tell me more," he said, trying to hide his really excited tone.

"It was as if their auras came together, they totally altered the energy of the place," the excited witch explained, as she adjusted her glasses again, a gesture she only made when she was totally enchanted by something.

Crowley smiled as he watched Anathema explain everything about the auras, then end up climbing to other issues. They ended up talking for hours, as in the old days, when Anathema was still a young witch and he was a demon with an unrequited love.

Of magic, of witchcraft, of spells, of life, of falling in love, of any subject that was put before them.

Hell, how much he had missed that!

[…]

"Are you sure about this?" Anathema asked the young man in front of her.

The teenager nodded. "Of course, I've been interested in these issues for a long time and it would be an honor for a true witch descendant ..."

"Witch," he interrupted. "I prefer just the term witch," she said, determined years ago to eliminate the term "descendant" from her life, she was simply Anathema Device, always a witch, never ever a descendant, not anymore.

"Witch," the boy corrected in a tone that was disinterested. "But I think this witchcraft will be interesting, a few years ago I practice, but ...

"Years? Asked Anathema amused. "Since when do you practice witchcraft?"

"Since I was 12 years old," he replied. "Although, I have been interested since my nann..."

Anathema raised a hand to interrupt him. "Okay, okay, no need for explanations, I'll help you."

The boy's gesture changed completely to an excited one, that of someone excited to learn, something strange to see.

"Really, oh!" I promise you, Miss Device, that I will be the best with there can be" between words run over and stuttered full of emotion, the boy with his trembling hands pulled a book from his backpack. It was a fairly thick and quite old book, judging by its appearance, but the boy had managed to the book be in perfect condition so far.

He opened the book on the first page, of a yellowish color typical of books several years old, but what really stood out was the small message written in black ink and with a neat letter on the cover.

Anathema approached to read it, with a curiosity that his former mentor had inadvertently inherited.

_By the time you have the age to invoke your own demons_

_Love, Nanny_

The brunette narrowed her eyes, trying to recognize the letter she was sure she had seen on another occasion.

"It was the last gift my nanny gave me," the boy commented wistfully. "She was the one who made me interested in these things ..."

“And your name is…” Asked Anathema

"Warlock, Warlock Dow ..."

The poor boy was again interrupted by the sound of a door opening abruptly, something that made both of them startle.

"Witch!" Anathema rolled her eyes as she recognized who that voice belonged to "It's me, your beloved adoptive father"

Crowley entered the kitchen but when he saw the boy who accompanied her, he was completely frozen at the door watching them both fixedly.

"Crowley," Anathema said, in an attempt to break the awkward silence that had been made. "He's Warlock, he's going to be my new. apprentice."

"You ..." said the boy, analyzing his features carefully. "By chance, don't you have a twin sister?"

Crowley just smiled in response, sighed heavily before entering the kitchen to introduce himself "for the first time" with the new witch apprentice, Warlock Dowling.

Oh yeah. His two adopted children were witches; fate was really capricious.


End file.
